


Pray

by babybrotherdean



Series: Altarboy!Dean 'verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Dean's 16), (a little bit), Age Difference, Age Swap, Altarboy!Dean, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Church Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn With Plot, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You never wondered?” Sam’s hands slide down to settle on his hips, creep in and around a little farther. Dean presses back against him without really meaning to, breath hitching. “Never thought about how it would feel? About why they made you take those vows in the first place?”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Sam decides it's time to push things a little farther with his favourite altar boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pray

**Author's Note:**

> Dean's sixteen in this bit, so not _super_ underage, but. Keep that in mind.

It catches him off-guard, alone in the church after hours, everyone else already headed off to bed. Dean’s usually asleep by this time, as well, in preparation for his early rising- but tonight’s different. Tonight, he can’t so much as consider settling down with his mind racing the way it is.

As fate would have it, the very reason for his restlessness also happens to be the one pinning him against a cool stone wall, pressed warm and solid against his back.

“You know what’d be fun?” Sam murmurs, lips brushing his ear, and Dean shivers. Wonders why Sam- a demon, of all things- is visiting him in the evening for the first time in eight years. “I think it’d be fun if you let me show you what you’re missing out on with all those pesky vows of yours.”

“What-?” Dean barely breathes the word, can’t help the confusion. Wonders about the warmth stirring low in his stomach, what it means. “What’re you talking about?”

“You never wondered?” Sam’s hands slide down to settle on his hips, creep in and around a little farther. Dean presses back against him without really meaning to, breath hitching. “Never thought about how it would feel? About why they made you take those vows in the first place?”

Dean remembers them, distantly. Promises to keep himself pure, devote and surrender himself to none but his Father. “Because it’s my duty to serve Him, and no other-”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Sam cuts him off before he gets the chance to stammer out whatever other reasons he might’ve managed to come up with. “I think… they just wanted to lock you away and keep a goddamn work of art all to themselves.” 

Sam’s hands are moving again, sliding around and over the tops of his thighs, lower. Dean jerks in his arms, a startled little gasp pulled from him as one of them brushes over his cock, over his vestments. It’s still too much, and he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling.

He can feel the grin against the back of his neck. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Dean doesn’t have a good answer for that, even as his hips stutter forward, trying to press more firmly against Sam’s hand. Bites down hard on his lower lip to stifle a whimper.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

It’s the only warning he gets before Sam’s pressing him more firmly into the wall, one hand tight on his hip while the other starts working at his cock through layers of cloth.

The added friction doesn’t do anything to help Dean’s state of mind, caught somewhere between _Sam’s a demon_ and _this shouldn’t be happening_ and _I don’t want it to stop._ None of it really matters, anyways, because he’s pretty sure that Sam doesn’t need much of anything from him to go ahead and do whatever it is he may please.

“Kinda can’t blame them.” Sam sounds thoughtful, and his hand’s still moving, stroking in slow movements, effectively rendering Dean incapable of speech. “Wanting you all to themselves. Don’t even realize how fuckin’ gorgeous you are, do you?”

“Wha-” Dean doesn’t know what to say about that, and feeling the heel of Sam’s hand pressing against him shuts him up, anyways. There’s something warm pooling in his stomach, has him squirming a little bit in place. “What are you-?”

“No, you really don’t.” A huff of laughter, and then Dean’s letting out a surprised cry as Sam nips at his ear lobe, tugs gently. “About time someone showed you.”

All Dean can think about- the only piece of information he seems to be able to hold onto right now- is that Sam is a demon. He’s a demon, demons are evil, this is _wrong._ Before he can stop himself, he’s speaking, barely a whisper, trips over near every word. “G-grant, O Lord, Thy protection, and in protection, strength, and in st-strength, understanding-”

Sam’s laughing again, nips at his neck. “What a good little church boy you are,” he murmurs, speeds up his hand and tightens his grip. The prayer dies in Dean’s throat, replaced by a whimper-moan that he can’t hold back. “You really think He’s going to protect you, hm?”

Dean’s beyond being able to even think of a retort, because the something that’s been building low in his stomach is growing, has him breathing fast and desperate as it seems to take over his entire being, has him rutting against Sam’s hand for that extra little bit of friction.

Sam’s breath is soft and hot against his ear. “Come for me, little lamb,” he purrs, and Dean-

-Dean sees white, squeezes his eyes shut tight and _whines,_ feels it explode out of him, feels relief and climax and possibly the best he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Hears something distant, something sharp and loud that he doesn’t have the ambition to identify.

He rolls his hips mindlessly, tries to urge Sam to help, to make it last, to give him more of this feeling, but it seems like it isn’t necessary, because Sam’s hand is still stroking him while the other moves, wraps an arm around his waist to support him just as his legs give out. Whispers reassurances and praises into his ear, _“so pretty”_ and _“just like that”_ and _“fucking perfect”_ leaving him shivering, pressing closer. 

“You don’t need Him, Dean,” Sam’s murmuring, pulling Dean closer until he’s settled in his lap. “He isn’t going to protect you. He won’t take care of you like I will, baby boy.”

Dean doesn’t respond, feels like all the energy’s been sapped out of him. Slumps against Sam’s chest and lets himself be held, closes his eyes when the demon starts stroking his hair, whispering affection in his ear and keeping him warm.

He’s not sure when he drifts off, or how he makes it back to his bed that night, but when he wakes up the next morning to attend to his duties in the church, the first thing he notices is the way a marble status of Jesus on the cross has been cracked, split up the middle. Not enough to destroy it, but impossible to miss.

Remembers what happened last night and swallows hard.

Things may be going too far, but he needs to learn more before he makes any decisions about Sam. Regardless- he isn’t sure he’ll be able to give up his best friend, no matter what he may be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
